The underground arena of Night City was packed tonight. The air smelled of sweat, cheap alcohol, and overheated cyberware. Neon lights flickered above cracked concrete walls, casting harsh colors over the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight.
Arthur Vale stood quietly near the edge of the ring, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the battlefield.
Bane adjusted his stance.
He chose a high guard, shoulders raised tight, chin tucked deep. His body looked relaxed, but his nerves were alive. Dorothy and the rest of the fighters had already surrounded him. Except for her, the others rushed forward together, thinking they could overwhelm him with numbers.
That was their first mistake.
DeShawn stepped closer to Arthur and smiled politely.
"You must be the ripperdoc who saved me, right? Can I know your name? I'm DeShawn."
Arthur didn't even turn his head. His eyes never left the fight.
"Yes," he said calmly. "I used expensive medicine to drag you back from death. Don't forget the consultation fee. I'll give you fifty percent off. Just pay eighty thousand."
DeShawn blinked once, then nodded.
"No problem. My life is worth much more than eighty thousand."
Arthur waved him off.
"Don't talk. You're blocking my view."
"Uh… sure."
Inside the ring, something had changed.
Bane's neural reflexes were enhanced. Not on the level of Adam Smasher, but enough to make everything around him look slow.
Too slow.
The attacks coming toward him felt like children throwing soft punches underwater.
So this is power.
Earlier, he had prepared himself for the worst. He had expected to be knocked out by a lucky hit. But now? Now he moved like lightning.
He dodged the first swing by a hair's breadth. A second fist cut through the air, missing him by inches. A third attacker lunged, but Bane twisted sideways with the smooth grace of a snake.
The crowd gasped.
A minute passed.
Bane began to feel in control of his new speed. His movements became sharper, cleaner. No wasted motion.
He slid forward suddenly.
He turned his head left, drawing Dorothy's attention—and then fired a brutal right hook straight into her ribs.
CRACK.
Dorothy's face twisted in pain. She grabbed her side and dropped to one knee before she could even scream.
Before anyone could react, Bane pivoted and launched a powerful uppercut.
The tall fighter in front of him didn't even see it coming.
His vision went black.
He fell flat on his back.
"Hiss—!"
Shock spread through the audience.
Bane's presence in that moment was terrifying.
He wasn't just fighting.
He was hunting.
The battle the crowd had imagined—a long struggle filled with shouting and blood—never came.
Instead, it became a clean, one-sided destruction.
Like knocking down wooden dolls.
Four minutes and thirty-two seconds.
That was all it took.
All eight opponents were on the ground.
Groaning.
Unable to stand.
Silence covered the arena.
Then Bane raised his right arm high.
"Tonight," he shouted, voice full of excitement, "the Puff Bar bill is on me!"
Two seconds of silence.
Then the place exploded.
"The winner—Bane!!"
"I knew it! Brother Bane is unbeatable!"
"Monster!"
Laughter and cheers filled the underground space.
Under countless eyes, Bane walked toward the drinks piled in the corner. He grabbed two bottles of beer, twisted them open, and returned.
He handed one to Arthur.
DeShawn stared at Bane like he had just witnessed a miracle.
'This… this is supposed to be some small-time group?' he thought.
Arthur noticed the shock on DeShawn's face and casually passed him a beer as well.
"Let's talk," Arthur said calmly. "This is Bane Gestalt. He saved you. He's also the leader of Destiny Church. Interested in joining?"
"Ah?" DeShawn blinked.
Then he nodded.
"Okay."
Bane froze.
He knew DeShawn.
A well-known fixer in Night City.
Smart. Cautious. Never careless.
So why did he agree so easily?
Did he see something?
Did he understand Arthur's ambition?
The crowd watched the three of them leave the ring with envy in their eyes. Behind them, the defeated fighters slowly struggled back to their feet.
"Bane is insane…"
"That wasn't a fight. That was a massacre."
The whispers followed them upstairs.
---
Puff Bar – Second Floor
The second floor was quieter. Softer lights. Private tables.
The three men sat down. DeShawn's heavy body took up an entire side of the booth by itself.
The bartender, Loki, placed their drinks on the table and left without speaking.
Silence.
Bane shifted slightly.
Arthur remained calm.
DeShawn observed both of them carefully.
After thinking for a moment, Bane cleared his throat.
"All filth will be reborn in the face of destruction…?"
Arthur slowly turned his head.
"?"
DeShawn's eyes widened.
Arthur looked confused.
"What is that?"
Bane scratched his head awkwardly.
"It's… our slogan. For Destiny Church. I just came up with it. We need a mission, right?"
Arthur rubbed his forehead.
"You're the leader. Do whatever you want. I won't stop you."
DeShawn leaned back, watching them.
So it really is a new organization.
No corporate backing.
No established territory.
Just raw power… and ambition.
Arthur turned to DeShawn again.
"So, middleman DeShawn. What do you think?"
DeShawn took a slow sip of his drink before answering.
"It's promising. With someone like Bane, you'll attract attention quickly. But Night City isn't simple. It's controlled by corporations. Power struggles are everywhere. People like us? We're small compared to them."
He paused.
Seeing that Arthur didn't interrupt, he continued.
"If you want to survive here, you need resources. Connections. Protection. I joined because I believe in what I saw tonight. But without background support… things won't be easy."
Bane's hand tightened around his glass.
He felt it.
That subtle doubt.
He wanted to argue—but he had no words.
What could he say?
He wasn't a strategist.
He wasn't a businessman.
He was a fighter.
Arthur noticed Bane's tension and gently raised a hand.
"Relax."
Then he looked at DeShawn with a faint smile.
"What do you think of Bane's combat ability?"
DeShawn answered immediately.
"Top-tier. Honestly, I've seen mercenaries with heavy cyberware who couldn't move that cleanly."
Arthur leaned forward slightly.
"He doesn't even have a Sandevistan installed yet."
For a moment, DeShawn thought he misheard.
"…What?"
"No Sandevistan," Arthur repeated calmly.
The air between them changed.
"You're telling me," DeShawn said slowly, "that what I saw down there… was pure physical combat?"
"Right."
Silence.
DeShawn stared at Bane again—but this time, differently.
A man who could defeat eight enhanced fighters in under five minutes…
Without a Sandevistan.
Without high-end time-dilation implants.
That meant one thing.
His potential was terrifying.
In a city where people relied on cyberware to survive, Bane had just proven something dangerous.
He was already a monster before upgrades.
DeShawn leaned back.
His mind was racing.
If Bane installed a Sandevistan?
If Arthur upgraded him properly?
If Destiny Church expanded?
The thought made him uneasy.
But also excited.
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Night City is complicated," he said softly. "Corporations fight from the top. Gangs fight from below. But sometimes… a new force rises from the middle."
He tapped the table lightly.
"We're not trying to fight everyone at once."
He looked at DeShawn directly.
"We're building something different."
DeShawn studied Arthur carefully now.
Calm.
Measured.
Confident.
Not reckless.
He realized something important.
The true core of Destiny Church wasn't Bane.
It was Arthur.
And Arthur was far more dangerous than he looked.
Outside, neon lights flashed through the windows of Puff Bar.
Down below, people were still celebrating Bane's victory.
Up here, something much more important had just begun.
A new organization had taken its first step in Night City.
And this time—
It wasn't backed by a corporation.
It wasn't born from a gang war.
It was built on ambition.
And power.
And destiny.
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